The Wedding Chronicles
Acepilot

AN - This is sort of the culmination, I guess. There's still more to come, but...this chapter was brutally hard to write and took ages. This chapter took almost 15 days, all up. I hope you enjoy the centrepiece of "In The End".

Disclaimer - The AGU characters are property of KlaskyCsupo.

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It's going to storm, I can tell.

I'm sitting in my darkened hotel room, in front of a roaring fire, dressed in a tux with the bow loosened and draped like a scarf around my neck. A tumbler with a small amount of scotch in it is at my side, but for once it remains untouched. Drinking holds no appeal anymore. I did enough of that to last me a lifetime.

She's going to marry him

She deserves someone like him. She deserves a successful husband, someone who can treat her like she deserves. I mean, what am I? An Indy musician. Hardly an occupation that makes a lot of money. He's a superstar director. A Golden Globe nominee. What the hell do I have to offer?

But why did last night go like it did?

I hear a knock at my door. I've been expecting one. I have a hunch it'll either be Dil, to drag me to the wedding, or Chuckie or Suzie, to comfort me.

"It's open," I tell them, watching the fire make the scotch in my glass glow prettily.

"Hey," comes an unexpected, but familiar voice.

I chuckle, but don't turn to face her. "You're about the last person I expected," I admit.

Angelica sits down gracefully in one of the other chairs. "Chuckie and Suzie both wanted to come, but they're in the wedding party. They'll be missed before I am." She tosses a chocolate bar at me. "Have you been drinking?"

I shake my head. "Nup. Gave it some serious consideration, though."

"Good," Angelica commends me. "Shows your sane enough to be miserable but in control enough to remain sober. Now eat your chocolate."

I peer over at her quizzically. "Is this what you're like when Chuckie's had a hard day at work?"

She nods. "Pretty much. So, I guess the obvious starting point would be, 'Why did you come all the way from London...and bail?'"

I contemplate the vast array of excuses I could give her. I think about all the ways I could pass this off as being anything other than what it is. I couldn't deal. I felt sick. I decided not to risk breaking down in the middle of the wedding.

"Because I slept with Kimmi last night," I admit regretfully, staring at the fire with remorse.

"I know. She told Suzie."

My jaw drops. "What? If you knew, then why -"

"I wanted to see if you'd admit it or not," she tells me. "You were thinking about lying."

"Was not," I mutter lamely.

"Eat your chocolate," she orders again, so I reluctantly tear open the foil and take a chunk out of the bar of dairy milk. I hate to admit it, but when she's right, she's right. This does actually kind of make me feel better. "Y'know," she offers, "I was kinda hedging my bets that you'd burst in at an opportune moment and yell, 'I object!'"

"Thought about it," I admit, "but decided to play it safe and not make a total fool of myself."

"Probably for the best," Angelica agrees, reaching over and swiping a bit of my chocolate. "So, I hate to be the one to ask, but what happens now?"

I stare into the fire. I've been pondering that very question all day. "Now I go back to London, Tommy and Kimmi get married, and everyone lives happily ever after."

"You don't," she points out.

I shake my head. "I'll be fine. I have friends, I have a life. I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." She sighs loudly in her oh-so-irritating you-don't-get-it-but-I-do manner. "You won't be fine. You don't have her." Her chair creaks as she leans forward. "Do you know what happened between me and Chuckie?"

I nod. "Bits and pieces. Enough to work it out in a broader sense."

She leans back again. "D'you know what finally brought us together? Got us to stop messing with each other's feelings at last?"

"No, what?" I ask, but I'm only really half interested.

"It was because we were what made each other's lives feel right. For all the hurt we went through, on both sides, for all the misery and difficulties of our relationship, we were what each other lived for. We were what kept each other going, even in our self-induced hard times. And that's what Kimmi is to you. Despite the shit the two of you have been through together, she's still your perfect beacon of light and wonder. You wouldn't have slept with her again, otherwise."

"You don't know I already slept with her," I point out.

She gives me a "what kind of idiot do you take me for" look. "I don't need to know. Even Chuckie worked it out. Only Tommy remained in the dark, and I still say he's just in denial."

I shrug. "It wasn't like I planned it. I mean, I dreamt a million times of being with her. And hey, it was the most incredible experience of my life. Both times. But it was never right, and I knew it." I sigh regretfully. "The first time, after I got back from the hospital, it just...happened. In the middle of this raging fight, I kind of tearfully confessed...I don't remember now if I kissed her or if she kissed me. It's all a blur. But it sure as hell didn't matter who initiated it. Because then we were all over each other. And I told her I loved her. I don't think I ever asked her to leave Tommy. I just told her I loved her." I take a deep breath and I'm not surprised when it knocks tears from my eyes. "And then, the next morning, she just left. She told me she couldn't leave Tommy, that she was sorry that she didn't love me, but that she simply didn't. And I must have lain there for hours and hours and hours, just trying to convince myself the whole thing didn't happen. But it did."

"So you ran away."

Years ago, even days ago, I'd have taken offence to that statement. I'd have objected, claiming I wasn't running away, but that my prospects as a musician were better in London. That I always wanted to get out on my own, find my own life, and that as long as they were around, I'd lean on everyone I could. I had to go as far away as possible. But now, with four years behind me, and an array of cold, hard facts to face, denying it would seem childish. Stupid. No matter how I try to justify it.

"I ran away," I agree. "I ran as far from her and Tommy as I could."

"So why did you come back?"

Good question. Did I come here because Tommy asked me? Or did I just use that as an excuse? Did I just want a reason to come back here and try and win Kimmi over?

I don't know.

"I don't know."

Angelica nods. "Do you want me to tell everyone you came down sick or something?"

I shake me head. "No. Just...don't say anything. Don't worry about it, it's not your problem. Don't go lying for me or anything."

She nods and smiles sadly, rising from her seat. She pulls a coat on over her dress and pats me on the head. For once I don't jerk away or glare at her. "I'm sorry, Phil."

I shake my head again. "Don't be. I'll go back to London, I'll white some horrifically sad song, and I'll get over her."

"That hasn't worked yet," she points out.

"It might someday," I offer, but I know that my voice contains no real trace of hope, that it's just some pathetic attempt at self-comfort.

Angelica leans down and pecks me on the cheek. "Good luck, Phil."

"Thanks," I tell her.

She's reaching for the doorknob when temptation overcomes me. "Y'know, Angelica, you're kind of sweet when you want to be."

She smiles at me. "Don't let it get around. I've got Chuckie silent on threat of chastity. You I'd just have to kill." And she smiles again, and leaves.

And once more I'm alone with my thoughts, a fireplace, and an untouched tumbler of scotch.

The first rumbles of thunder rip across the sky. I look up and watch as dry lightening beings forking it's way through the city, producing a dazzling light show as the first of the rain spatters against my windows. I glare at my glass of scotch and slam it down heavily on the table next to my chair. How stupid could I have possibly been? How could I have thought it would be magically different this time? Why didn't I stop it last night when I had the chance?

Because she completes me. She makes my life whole.

I love her, even if she doesn't love me.

The next knock at the door comes as no surprise. Angelica probably hadn't made it as far as the lobby before the storm starting coming down. I wouldn't blame her for not wanting to get caught in it.

"It's open," I yell for the second time that night, but then I notice with a frown that Angelica has locked it on her way out. I rise from my seat and walk slowly, heavily, across the room. The storm outside seems to be weighing me down somehow. Making me drag my feet. Or maybe it's just the baggage of everything I've been left to think about.

I twist the knob counter-clockwise, deactivating the lock, before opening it.
Her dress is simple. Elegant. Her hair's done up in a bun on top of her head, laced with a pair of chopsticks, and it's gotten slightly damp. Her dress has been mostly protected by a brown jacket she's hugging tight around herself.

"Hi," she offers.

I nod slowly. "Hi," I return.

"There's no excuse for my behavior," she admits, still standing in the corridor. "And...well, I guess 'I'm sorry' is going to sound lame and hopelessly inadequate.

I nod slowly. I realize this might be kind of cold, but a part of me seems not to care.

"I've done a lot of thinking today," she tells me, looking down at her feet. "About a lot of things. And...well...I don't think -"

"Stop," I tell her. And to my vague surprise, she does. She stops speaking, but she still doesn't' look up at my face. "Are you serious about this?" I ask. "Do you seriously mean it?"

She nods slowly.

"Then look me in the eyes and say it," I tell her.

Her head rises slowly, carefully, as if she's unsure of what's happening. But, despite her evident hesitance, her eyes finally lock with mine, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath. As if trying to expel her fears.

"When I woke up this morning, and I rolled over and saw you there, it didn't feel wrong. I though that after all these years of waking up next to Tommy, waking up next to another man would feel strange, that I would be startled. But I wasn't. Instead I just wanted to curl up to you and go back to sleep. And that scared me. I wake up on my wedding day next to a man who is definitely not my fiancé and I just want to stay there? It all hit me at once. I got scared. I bolted." She begins to reach out to me, but pulls back at the last moment. "I'm sorry."

I nod. What is there I can say?

"So I sat around today, through getting ready for my wedding, having my hair done and everything, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about how I'd been unfaithful to Tommy, trying not to think about how I may have jeopardized my marriage before I'm even at the aisle - trying not to think about you."

Well, don't I feel special.

"But sitting there, in that dressing room, I couldn't think about anything else. Anything but this morning and how impossibly right if felt to be there next to you. And how this wasn't a new feeling. But it was for you and you alone."
This time she does reach out to me, and I feel the ghost of her fingertips brush my hand. "I'm sorry for what I did four years ago. I'm not sorry for sleeping with you. I'm sorry for the morning after, I'm sorry for turning away from you. I didn't want to face it then. I was in love with Tommy." She sighs. "I guess I still kind of am, to an extent. But it's not like it is with you. So I could go and walk down that aisle now, and marry a man who loves me and wants to make me happy. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't settle. It's unfair to him." Her eyes rise to meet mine again, and I feel exposed, naked but warm and beautiful under that intense gaze. "Because I love you."

I've pictured this moment a million ways. In the more drug-and-alcohol induced versions, we fly off to some unseen island and all is beautiful and peaceful. In my realistic versions, I'm lost for words. In version on peaceful Sunday afternoons, we kiss like something out of a chick flick.

In actuality I let out a brief, sad, chuckle. I shake my head and she looks at me with a puzzled expression. "I've waited for so long to hear you say that," I tell her. "Ten years, I guess. But now that you've said it, I don't know what to do with it."

She bites her lip. "Oh."

I sigh. "Look, Kimmi, I love you. I have for a long time. So long I can't remember a time when I didn't."

She glances down. "But..."

"But every time...every time it seems like you might feel the same, I end up getting hurt." I reach out and tip her chin back so I can see her face. "You woke up to an impossibly wonderful feeling of love and wonder this morning. But I just woke up to a cold, empty bed." I breath in deeply. "And I couldn't help but remember doing the same thing four years ago. And I kind of have to wonder if you're worth all the pain."

Tears start to drip down her cheeks and I can't help but brush them away with my thumb. "I'm...I'm sorry, Phil. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry...for all the stuff I put you through. I'm sorry it took me so long to work out how I felt." She reaches up and presses her hand into mine where it rests on her cheek. "I can't give you any reasons, other than that I love you. But...I don't want to be without you, Phil. I need you to forgive me. Please."

I can change. I want to change.

You're my salvation.

Some part of me wants to remember all the hurt and turn her way. Tell her thanks, but no. Tell her that it's all been too much.

But the part of me that will love her forever pulls her into the hotel room and pressed my lips to hers.

We've got a lot of things to talk about. To sort out. A lot of issues in the past, on both sides. We're going to have to face Tommy - face everyone, I guess - sooner or later. But that can all wait until morning. Because, for the first time, I know she'll be here. I don't know why I think this will be different from last night. From four years ago. But I know she'll be there.